


cupid love

by haroldslouis



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Online Dating, Pining, Secret Identity, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 16:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7180940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldslouis/pseuds/haroldslouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of deleting the gay dating app his teammates installed as a prank and continuing his hopeless crush on Adam, Jordan matches with David and falls in love (again)</p>
            </blockquote>





	cupid love

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [丘比特之恋（cupid love）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921111) by [natalia_lip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalia_lip/pseuds/natalia_lip)



> this fic was a bitch to write but these two are being so cute lately so it's all worth it!
> 
> a hundred thousand kisses to [lesbleusthroughandthrough](http://www.lesbleusthroughandthrough.tumblr.com) for proof-reading this fic to make sure it wasn't a complete trainwreck and of course the best beta ever [neyvenger](http://www.neyvenger.tumblr.com) for being the sweetest and helping me make a coherent fic out of this mess.♥
> 
> insp. by a sid/geno fic i sadly can't find anymore :(

He’s walking into the dressing room with Adam, both of their faces covered with a thin layer of sweat from the training session, and he notices that something’s off immediately.

Most of the guys have faces like they’re constipated, desperately trying to hold in their laughter, and Lukas is wearing a smug smile.

Adam stops mid-sentence when he notices Jordan’s distraction, and he apparently picks up on the suspicious atmosphere as well, because he asks: “Okay, what the fuck have you guys tried to pull this time?”

And while Adam and Phillipe get into a squabble, because Phillipe is offended Adam looked at him first, Jordan scans the dressing room again.

And there it is. Alberto’s hiding both of his hands behind his back, and the corners of his mouth are trembling. Jordan makes his way over, and stands in front of the red head. “C’mon, spill it,” he demands, placing his hands on his hips.

When Alberto shakes his head, eyes glinting mischievously, Jordan makes another try at diplomacy. Adam, however, isn’t wired that way, and when he notices Alberto as the culprit, he forcefully wrenches the kid’s arms from behind his back to the front. Alberto is holding both of their phones in his hands, and they snatch them back at the same time.

Jordan sighs, preparing himself for the naked old lady that’s undoubtedly flaunting her assets on his phone background. But as he presses the home button, everything seems normal. Wary, he taps in his code, and swipes through his apps. And yes, there it is.

“ _ Cupid love _ ?” he asks, an exasperated tone slipping into his voice. He stares at the square icon of the app, pink with a little arrow pointing downwards. “That’s the best you’ve got, guys?”

Adam snorts, also going through his phone. “No originality here, either,” he says, locking his screen again. He goes to sit down and unties the laces of his boots. Jordan moves over to his spot and starts changing as well.

Before he leaves the dressing room to go home, he makes sure to flick the back of Alberto’s head in retaliation.

He completely forgets about the app for the rest of the day. The coach has called for a team meeting for the upcoming match this Saturday, and after that he does a bit of shopping because almost all his cabinets are empty.

While he’s lugging his groceries into the kitchen, his phone rings. It’s his mother, remembering him of his sister’s birthday in two weeks, and Jordan should really get down to London to buy her that bag she’s always drooling about.

He lets himself fall back into the cushions of the couch, stretching his legs out onto the coffee table and flexing his toes. After answering a couple emails from his accountant and his agent, he presses the home button. The app is still there, and Jordan rolls his eyes at it before he opens it. And, god damn it. It’s a gay app, of course. His teammates even made him a profile!

A surge of white hot heat goes down his spine, and he panics slightly as he goes to his personal page. He lets out a sigh when he sees that they used his middle name, Brian. His profile picture doesn’t show his face either. It takes him a while, but eventually Jordan remembers the picture as one from his last vacation. He’s wearing a pair of LFC shorts, and—that’s it. He’s shirtless, and the picture has his face cropped out. It’s a good picture, Jordan’s willing to admit that. At that time he was in the middle of his training regime, and his chest and stomach look strong.

He taps his finger in the top right corner, going through the menu to search for the ‘delete profile’ button, when a notification pops up. Someone… Jordan hardly believes that he’s reading this, but someone sent him a Cupid. The app tells him that he can look at the other person’s profile, and if he sends him a Cupid back, they can chat with each other.

Jordan pushes a strand of hair away from his forehead. To everyone else, this is probably just banter. A stroke for your ego, going on a gay dating app and having people send you Cupids. But for Jordan it’s dangerous territory. It’s a part of a lifestyle that he denies himself.

He considered joining a dating app a while ago, since he can’t really go out into town and bring home a random lad he finds in a club. It’s not something he wants. A relationship with a man is something far out of reach for him, but that doesn’t mean that he makes himself content with hook-ups. He’d like a little more depth than that. But his own paranoia has always kept him back from joining any kind of dating website or app. The risks are just too big. What if someone recognized him on the app, and they sold his story out to the newspapers? No, just the thought alone has always been enough for Jordan to stay away from anything like that.

But this way, though, he’s anonymous. He’s a faceless six-pack, wearing a pair of LFC shorts, and his name is Brian. Maybe it’s because he’s hungry, or because he hasn’t gotten any sort of action lately, or because he’s just an attention whore, but he opens the profile of the guy who sent him a Cupid.

And, no. He takes in the blond hair and the Everton jersey, and he taps back furiously.

Considering this as a sign of God, he drops his phone on the table and goes into the kitchen to make himself some dinner. It’s a simple dish of potatoes and beans, and he listens to the rain pattering against the windows while he eats it.

He finishes off his dinner with some ice cream, because he’s burned enough calories today to give himself this kind of loving, okay. It’s still early when he closes the lid of his dishwasher, and he leans against the kitchen counter. There’s not much to do tonight, other than waiting until it’s ten p.m. so he can watch the new episode of Geordie Shore.

Thunder is crackling outside, and during a bright flash of lightning Jordan decides to go for a run. He’s still dressed in his tracksuit, so he pulls a pair of running shoes on his feet and puts his keys in the zipper pocket of his trainers.

By the time he gets back, water is dripping down from the ends of his hair, and his clothes stick to his body everywhere. He shakes his head like a dog, jumping a little on his doormat to fling of some of the wetness from his clothes. With shaking, cold fingers he pushes his key into the lock and lets himself inside.

There’s a trail of water behind him as he walks to the bathroom, and he leaves his clothes in a puddle on the floor as he takes a quick shower.

When he can feel his limbs again, he dries off and pulls on a clean pair of boxers. His bed feels like a warm cocoon, and Jordan twists sideways to turn on the TV, while simultaneously trying to plug his phone on the charger. The screen lights up when he connects it, and he settles back into the stack of pillows, going through his notifications. There’s a few new tweets from the Liverpool Twitter account, and he retweets a picture of him and Adam warming up together.

But then his phone buzzes, and the Cupid Love icon pops up in the top left corner. Jordan opens the app, ready to finish deleting it, but it seems that he’s gotten three Cupids.  _ Three.  _ He goes through the first two profiles, and while they seem okay guys, their profiles clearly state they’re only looking for a hook up.

He opens the last profile, and wow, okay.

This guy’s name is David, and David seems really cool. His profile picture is a shot from behind. David is standing on the edge of a cliff, looking out over the sea, and he’s got a snapback backwards on his head. Jordan zooms in a bit, and notices the Liverbird on the front.

He goes through the guy’s interests, trying to find something to put him off completely instead of only getting him more interested. But apparently David’s interests are Liverpool, and history, and he’s always down to go for a cheeky Nandos. Who even says that anymore? But not even the outdated use of the lad vocabulary puts Jordan off, and it’s another zoom on David’s profile picture – his ass this time – that makes him impulsively send a Cupid back.

The app blinks, another notification that tells him that Brian and David have matched, and can now send each other messages. Breathing like he’s just ran a marathon, Jordan puts his phone screen-down onto his bedside table and redirects his focus onto the quality reality TV show currently running.

He’s halfway into the episode when his phone buzzes once, twice. Scrambling, he nearly drops his phone onto the floor in his hurry to open the message.

 

**hey** , the first message reads.

**great team you’re supporting there**

 

It’s the most normal of messages anyone could’ve sent him, especially considering this is a gay hook-up app, but it makes Jordan’s cheeks flame hotly.

 

**Hi** , he types, frowning down at his uncooperative fingers.

**Same to you, first guy I see who doesn’t support Everton.**

 

Okay, so what if he’s only seen one other guy who supports Everton? It’s at least not a completely stupid reply. He watches the three-dot bubble move.

 

**no everton here**

**so what does it mean that u can be ‘overbearing at times’?**

 

Jordan frowns, confused. He taps back and goes through his own profile. Right there, under personality traits, it says: ‘I can be overbearing at times, bordering on despotic’. He wants to strangle the teammate who came up with that.

 

**A friend of mine filled that in.**

**They think they’re so funny.**

 

**ah i see**

**still though**

**it’s not a bad thing**

**some people like it when others are a bit bossy**

 

Jordan swallows hard, knowing there’s red staining his cheeks right now. It’s a completely normal thing to say, he tells himself. Or maybe not, but it’s still more innocent than what someone can usually expect.

 

**I’m not bossy just because.**

**My job kinda requires me to be a bit pushy**

 

**what do u do?**

 

And, fuck. He did not think this through. What if he just said it? ‘I’m the captain of Liverpool, and I’m bossy because they’re all a bunch of little monstrous children, and they’re the reason I’m even talking to you in the first place’. Instead, he replies with

 

**I’m a pre-school teacher**

**The children in my class are quite the handful**

**What about you?**

 

**im still in uni, studying history**

**maybe one day i’ll become a bossy teacher like you ;)**

 

The last message leaves Jordan blushing furiously, not knowing what to type for a while. He clears his throat, tapping his fingers on the back of his phone. His eyes keep being drawn back to David’s profile picture. He opens it again, takes in the bright blue colour of the sea in the background, and he can see that David’s shoulders are well-defined through the thin fabric of the white shirt he’s wearing.

 

**Where was your profile picture taken?** he asks, because he has to come up with  _ something. _

**It’s very beautiful.**

 

The episode of Geordie Shore finishes on a will-they-won’t-they cliff hanger, and Jordan pushes the covers away from his body, feeling warm. He gets out of bed, combing his half damp hair while he brushes his teeth. The intense training of this morning is making his limbs feel heavy, and all he wants is to close his eyes and sleep for fifteen hours.

He goes back to bed, tugging the covers sideways and sticking his warm feet out. There’s a message on his phone, and he licks his lips while he unlocks the screen.

 

**what, me or the pic? ;)**

**jk the pic was taken in tenerife a while back**

 

Jordan grins. He likes David’s wit. And his ass, because those tight jean shorts in the picture leave next to nothing to the imagination. It’s probably the sleep deprivation combined with the reckless behaviour of the Geordie Shore casts that makes him type out

 

**You of course**

**Youre a history student right?**

**Maybe you’ve been looking at Greek sculptures too long**

 

It’s crazy, and Jordan’s squeezing his eyes shut after he sends the message. But the thing is, he  _ can. _ He can do this. He doesn’t have to stop himself from saying these words, he doesn’t have to keep up this ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ mentality about his sexuality.

Right now, he can call himself Brian for a while and flirt with this insanely hot (from the back at least) guy, who’s apparently also smart, and quite funny, as well.

 

**says the guy with his abs out on his pic**

**not that im complaining**

**do you know what brian means in greek mythology?**

 

**What’s that saying about having it and flaunting it?**

**Anyway I don’t think Brian is a Greek name**

 

**ur right haha**

**its not**

**but im gonna go out on a limb here and say it means virile**

**thats what i get from your picture at least**

 

Jordan clenches his fingers, a hot feeling blooming inside his chest. Who knew that someone describing him as ‘virile’ would be such a turn-on for him? He feels his eyelids drooping as he switches between apps, opening Google and searching for the meaning of the name David.

 

**You don’t know if I’m virile**

**But your name’s supposed to mean beloved**

**That’s at least sorted with your football club**

 

**ur the only person other than my mum who says thats accurate**

**and about the whole virile thing**

**i think im on the right track since i cant stop fucking looking at your pic**

 

Right then, Jordan falls asleep, with the last thought on his mind being that he’s really,  _ really  _ gay.

******************************

Eventually, after about five weeks, Jordan’s lost any semblance of his previous shyness. He’s been talking to David daily, checking in with him from the moment he wakes up, and bidding him off goodnight at the end of the day. It’s an addictive heartburn for him.

He loves it, telling David whatever his mind comes up with, and David just running with it, understanding him. They sometimes watch TV shows together, sending sarcastic remarks back and forth. If that first conversation indicates anything, David proves to be a huge flirt. He never fails to say something laden with innuendo, and it leaves Jordan blushing and resisting the urge to flail.

They can’t watch Liverpool games together, obviously, because Jordan’s got to play them, but sometimes they talk about the games afterwards. David often mentions that he noticed a great interception by Henderson and it makes Jordan preen a little, a lot.

But as they’re getting closer, Jordan’s heartburn increases. Because David is amazing, he’s all Jordan’s ever looked for in a guy, but they’re stuck. It’s Jordan’s fault that they’re stuck.

He can’t be out, he can’t take the risk going on a date with someone he’s never met and hoping that they can keep their relationship quiet. David doesn’t even know who he really is, for God’s sake. Every time he wants to tell David about something stupid or funny one of the guys did in training, he has to change the names, change the setting and the situation, until there’s nothing left that resembles the actual event.

He comes home late from games, and he tells David he’s still up because he’s preparing for a class tomorrow. And David’s always awake too, working on an essay or studying for a midterm exam.

It leaves Jordan wanting, and he has to keep denying himself, because they don’t stand a chance in hell of making it.

******************************

Games against Manchester United are always bound to become a clusterfuck of anger, passion, red cards, a goal by the Mancs, two goals by them, and they fucking pull through. They’re in the final of the FA cup, and they beat them at the Kop.

Adam hangs against him with his arm around his neck as they make their way off the pitch, and down into the tunnel.

“Lads!” Jordan shouts over the trap music Daniel’s playing, “First round is on me!”

His proposal is met with loud cheers, and one by one they all hit the shower. Jordan stays back and waits for a bit, sending a quick message to David if he saw the amazing Liverpool win. Whatever, he’s the captain so he can say that. He waits for a few minutes but David doesn’t reply, so he puts his phone away.

Grabbing a towel, he heads to the showers. Adam’s just getting out of the shower, towel around his waist, and he places a slobbering kiss on Jordan’s cheek. “Fucking ace out there,” he grins, already managing to look drunk.

Jordan knows how Adam’s always managing to get drunk on the adrenaline of winning a game. He fondly pushes his friend away, getting in a cheeky ruffle through Adam’s hair before getting into the showers himself.

The club is busy, dark, and warm. The music is booming, making his eardrums suffer. Half of the team has discarded onto the dancefloor, disappearing in between the crowd of people.

Alberto is slumped over the table top, looking a bit green after those last few shots. Jordan feels the damp strands of his hair sticking against the back of his neck, the condensation of his drink cold against the sweaty palm of his hand. He throws back the last of it, feeling the burn travel down his throat to settle hotly in his stomach.

Adam is also somewhere on the dance floor, and Jordan’s eyes travel over the many people until they meet Adam’s. His friend is waving his arm wildly, beckoning him over.

Jordan gets out of the booth, feeling for his phone in his pocket in case he needs to call both of them a taxi later. He makes his way down from the VIP area to the dancefloor and collides with Adam halfway.

Adam’s face is flushed, his eyes are dark and flash briefly with every passing neon burst from the ceiling, and he grabs at Jordan’s waist to pull him closer. “You fucking,” he shouts, slurring a bit, “—fucking pulled us through again.”

Adam’s lips are close to his ear, and Jordan pulls back, laughing at the bright happiness on Adam’s face. He’s been like this lately, brighter, happier, and Jordan loves seeing him like this.

They dance wildly for a bit, Adam flat out laughing at him when he knows all the words to a Justin Bieber song. A few teammates dance with them for a bit, but most of them go home after a while.

Jordan’s downing another shot, and he’s lost count of how many he’s taken already. Adam’s not doing much better than he is, but while Jordan feels like he’s simmering, Adam’s burning hotly.

The music switches tones and Jordan finds his body flush against Adam’s. And  _ fuck _ , it’s been a while. He’s having this thing with David for the past month, and it’s good, and Jordan wants it to just be him, or whatever.

But he hasn’t gotten any action for a long time and Adam and him have always been… he doesn’t know what they’ve been but they still are. Because Adam’s right here in his space and all Jordan wants is to pull him closer, like he always wants, and he’s really not sober tonight.

His arms slip around Adam’s waist, and Adam’s thigh is between his legs. He doesn’t know the song that’s playing but it’s about sex, and the beat reverberates through his body every few seconds. It makes him go languid, ducking his head a few times to meet Adam’s heated gaze.

Adam’s moving his hips in a way that drives Jordan mad, and he grabs them with both his hands. He doesn’t stop Adam though, only digs his fingers into the skin above Adam’s waistbands. They gradually move lower down his waistband, because Adam’s leaning in more and he’s panting in Jordan’s neck, his lips sliding along his skin. Jordan’s fingers clench in the fabric of Adam’s jeans, just above the swell of his ass.

His head feels like it’s spinning and he only holds Adam closer, trying to stay grounded. He can feel the stubble of Adam’s beard against his neck, and he feels his blood rushing southwards. Beards have always been a thing for him, and whenever he wanks off with David in his mind, he imagines David giving him beard burn on his inner thighs, his mouth, his neck.

He’s about to moan out David’s name through clenched teeth, when he realizes what exactly he’s doing, and with whom. It takes a lot of mental willpower to force himself back to reality.

This isn’t fair to David. They’ve got something brilliant going on right now, and he needs to keep his head on straight.

He pulls back slightly from Adam, ignoring the confused look on Adam’s face when he leans in to shout in his ear: “Let’s go find us taxis, Ad’s, I can hardly stand!”

Adam looks kind of out of it but he nods anyway, clinging onto Jordan’s arm as they push through the crowd towards the exit.

They wait outside in the cold, and one of the bouncers from the club gives them their forgotten coats. Jordan puts it on quickly, and helps Adam get into his. He pulls up the zipper, careful at the top and fixes the hood.

Adam’s looking at him like he wants to say something, his eyes much clearer than before, but right at that moment a taxi pulls up and Jordan herds his friend safely inside.

******************************

He makes it through his own front door some time later. The long taxi ride has sobered him up a bit, and he toes off his shoes in the hallway. Slumping his coat over one of the long chairs at his kitchen island, he fills a glass of water and takes two aspirin.

His phone is in his pocket, and he takes it out to send a quick message to Adam, asking if he got home alright. God,  _ Adam _ .

Maybe it was naïve of him to think that Adam was completely out of his system. From the moment Adam joined the club two years ago, they hit it off fantastically. They had the same sense of humour, they enjoyed similar types of movie genres and TV shows, and above all that, Jordan thought Adam was gorgeous.

Adam’s soft brown hair with the matching, twinkling eyes completely did it for him. Jordan’s spent many minutes staring at Adam’s full lips, wondering what they’d feel like against his own. Adam is also one of the nicest people Jordan’s ever met, and just being near Adam made him happy.

It all came to a head during the period when Adam was injured. They spent many evenings together, slumping on the couch as they watched whatever football game was on at that moment. Whenever Adam got sick of being cooped up inside his house, they went out for a movie or had some dinner together.

Their evenings together often ran pretty late, and Jordan even had a drawer in the guestroom’s closet with a few of his things. He’s pretty sure part of his own wardrobe consists of items he nicked from Adam’s closet every once in a while.

The mornings after those nights consisted of him making Adam scrambled eggs on toast. Adam usually wasn’t awake enough in the morning for Jordan to trust him around the stove.

It was during one of those mornings that Adam kissed him.

Jordan had moved over to Adam’s side of the kitchen island to put down his plate, when Adam curled his fingers around his neck and pulled him down. Their lips had met halfway, and Jordan can still remember bright as day the softness of Adam’s lips.

He’d pulled back quickly though, trying to laugh it off awkwardly. Because that’s what it was, right? Just a silly thing Adam did because he was still half asleep and frankly, he’s kind of an idiot, too. That, and Adam’s not into men. Jordan had seen him dancing in the club with a few women, and every once in a while Adam took one home with him as well.

No, it was better that they’d just forget that it ever happened, Jordan had decided. He’d sat down with his own plate of eggs and had opened up the sports section of the newspaper. He’d given Adam the front page, because there was something about an archaeological dig and Adam was into nerdy stuff like that.

Jordan leans against the kitchen counter, staring hard at the place where Adam and he kissed nearly two years ago. He hasn’t forgotten, of course, because he sees Adam every day and Adam’s even more brilliant to him now than he was back then.

They’d managed just fine. Jordan doesn’t remember if there’d ever been any awkwardness between them after that kiss. They were just Ads and Hendo, they did everything together and they were the best of friends.

But best friends don’t grind against each other in the club. Best friends don’t get turned on by the scrape of the other one’s beard against their neck. Just thinking about it makes Jordan clench his fingers around the top of the kitchen counter.

He’s still on edge, his cock filling up inside his boxers when he remembers what it felt like. After he puts his glass in the sink, he goes to his bedroom and undresses himself. He quickly brushes his teeth, blinking blearily at the bright light in the bathroom.

His phone buzzes in his jeans, which are on the floor of his bedroom. Jordan takes it out and gets into bed, palming his hard on with one hand.

There’s a message from David, and Jordan feels slightly bad that he’s sporting an erection right now that was caused by someone else. He opens the message, sinking further into his mattress.

 

**fcking great liverpool game tonite**

**u still up?**

 

Jordan grimaces, squeezing at the base of his cock. Yes, he’s still up, alright. He stares at the picture David sent him last night. David has wanted to show him his own pair of LFC shorts, and just looking at the pic again makes Jordan’s mouth go dry. David’s sitting in a chair, one hand high on his thigh. The thin fabric of the shorts showcases the bulge of David’s groin, and Jordan bites down on his lower lip. Typing with one hand is difficult, he finds.

 

**Yeah, im still up**

**Been looking at your picture**

 

David’s reply is quick. His spelling is even worse than normal, but Jordan’s not judging.

 

**ah u like wht u see? ;)**

 

**You know I do**

**Youre a tease you know that?**

**Getting me all worked up**

 

**fuck**

**are you touching urself?**

 

Jordan slides his hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, feeling the wetness gathering at the tip of his cock. It feels so good, touching himself while he looks at David’s covered groin, wondering what’s underneath the fabric.

 

**I am**

**You knew what that pic would do to me**

 

**definitely hoped so**

**i want to see u wank off**

**bet ur so fucking big and sexy**

 

“Fuck,” Jordan grits out between his teeth, speeding up the movements of his hand. It’s a little dry, but the sharp edge to the feeling makes his toes curl. He imagines David saying those words to him, whispering them in his ear while his beard scrapes along Jordan’s sensitive skin.

 

**Touching myself for you**

**Feels so good**

**Wanna see you too**

 

David doesn’t reply for a few seconds, and a whiny moan leaves Jordan’s lips. He’s so worked up, a bead of sweat trickles down his temple as he speeds up his tempo. His cock is slick, pre-come dribbling down the head. Jordan digs his thumb into the slit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

His phone buzzes and he lifts it again to see the screen. David has sent him a photo. David’s in bed, the sheets are pooled around his thick thighs, and he has a hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

Jordan curses. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. David’s cock is thick and long, and there’s a drop of pre-come gathering at the slit.

 

**look how hard u make me baby**

**cant stop thinking about how u look rn**

 

Jordan twists his wrist, feeling the muscles in his abdomen tighten. He’s close, David treats him so good.

His fingers are shaking a little as he opens up the camera app. He holds his cock at the base, his thumb digging into the edge of the head. An idea forms in his mind, and his cheeks flush. Widening his legs, he digs his ankles into the mattress and angles his hips up. His thighs are fully in frame in the background, and his cock stands up rock hard.

Jordan takes the picture and sends it, the adrenaline rush making him feel lightheaded. He tugs on his cock for a few more times, feeling his impending orgasm coming.

He fixes his eyes on the word ‘baby’ and whines low in his throat. Yes, he fucking wants that. He wants someone to call him ‘baby’, to hold him down while they fuck him hard.

It takes another sharp tug, twisting his grip at the tip, and Jordan’s coming. White streaks of come spurt from the head of his cock, hitting his tensed up abs. He thinks he blacks out for a second, as he falls back against the pillows.

He’s panting hard, and gathers enough strength to snap another picture of his spent cock laying in the crease of his thigh. He makes sure to get the stripes of translucent come into the frame as well. Taking the snap, he sends it to David.

 

**Look what you did**

**Your cock did this to me**

 

He worries his teeth along his lower lip. The post orgasm rush is making his head go all fuzzy.

 

**fuck baby you look so sexy**

**wanna suck your beautiful cock til u cry**

**ur gonna make me cum**

 

A sound escapes Jordan’s throat, and his cock gives a weak twitch as he reads the words. He can’t remember the last time he was so worked up, and had such a great orgasm because of it.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and Jordan stares at the picture David’s sent him. His cock is limp between his thighs, and there’s a puddle of come right underneath his belly button. Jordan sees a small hint of a tattoo, but it’s just a smudge of black and he can’t make anything of it. His eyes are drawn to David’s cock, and God, he wishes he was nineteen again so he could go for another round.

 

**Youre really fucking big**

**God**

**Im exhausted**

 

**wanna hear you say that irl**

**im gonna flunk out any time now**

**probs dream about you**

 

Jordan rolls his eyes at the cheesiness of the last text. It’s probably because he’s drunk and still high on endorphins, because the words still make his cheeks stain pink.

 

**You do that**

**Ill dream about your monster thighs ;)**

**Sleep tight xx**

 

**sweet dreams x**

 

He cleans himself off quickly with his discarded, sweaty shirt. Right before Jordan’s ready to put his phone onto the nightstand and give into the pull of sleep, he gets a text. It’s from Adam, saying that, yeah, he got home alright and if they’re still going out for tacos on Sunday. Jordan locks his screen, and burrows his face into his pillow.

In his dreams, it’s Adam who is leaning over him, whispering filthy things into his ear while Jordan can only arch his body into Adam’s touch.

******************************

“Jesus, Milly, are you even trying to hit the ball, or what?” Adam laughs, doubling over after James’ sad attempt at golfing.

“Fuck off,” James says, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He positions his feet again and takes another swing. He hits the ball this time, and it lands a few meters away from the green.

Jordan grins. “Not too bad for a beginner,” he says. He nudges Adam with his shoulder as he lines up for his shot. It’s better than James’, but nothing to boast about. Whatever, Jordan’s only here because Adam showed up at this doorstep two hours ago, whining that he was bored.

Adam shakes his head when he sees where Jordan’s ball lands. “Okay, step aside. You’re a disgrace, Hendo.”

Adam’s shot is a lot better than his and James’, but Jordan still tries to trip him when Adam preens a little too much in his face. They get into the golf cart, three full grown men squished together on a small bench.

“This is gonna be my last one, lads,” James says, taking a glance at his watch. “I have to take me and the missus to a lunch at my parents’ house.”

Jordan and Adam both groan. “We’ve only been here for an hour, Milly,” Adam complains. “You’re hardly free anymore. I’m telling you, your woman’s got you whipped.”

Jordan laughs at the look of indignation on James’ face. “Adam’s got a point there. You’ve been acting like a lovesick fool, following her around everywhere. It surprises me that you’re not kissing the floor she walks on.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” James’ snips, “Really funny guys. If anyone’s been acting like they’re madly in love, it’s you two.”

Jordan’s smile fades and he meets Adam’s eyes for a second. “What do you mean, us two?”

James huffs. “Don’t think you can hide it from me. Both of you have been shacked up by some lovely ladies, because all youse two do is smile at your phones all day.” He turns towards Jordan. “And you, you didn’t even get mad when Alberto and Phillipe giggled all throughout the team meeting yesterday. You’ve gone soft, Hendo.” He turns towards Adam. “And you, you haven’t stopped smiling for longer than three seconds since the season’s started. Let’s just face it, lads. The only ones who are whipped here, are youse two, and you didn’t even tell me who the ladies are. So until then, shut up about me and let’s take some hits before I have to go.”

Jordan slumps against the back of the seat, holding onto the edge of the roof as James criss-crosses the golf cart across the terrain. He hasn’t realized that he’s been so obvious. He has been happy, though, especially lately. David’s told him a while back that he’d like them to be exclusive, even though they hadn’t met yet. It made the hairs on the back of Jordan’s neck stand up, because being exclusive is a huge deal. And it means that one day they’ll have to meet if they want to keep it up. He did agree, though. He figured that keeping it steady with David would rid his head of any confusion left over Adam.

Thinking of Adam, Jordan looks sideways at his friend. Adam seems to be deeply absorbed into his thoughts, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the plastic dashboard.

Jordan’s surprised that Adam didn’t deny James’ words. It means that Adam’s also seeing someone, and he hasn’t told Jordan. Realizing that feels like a cold hand closing over his heart.

He wonders if they’ve been growing apart lately. Normally, Jordan would know all about Adam’s life, what’s happening, who he’s seeing, how his family’s doing. Adam not telling him about meeting a girl is unprecedented, and it hurts. They still spend a lot of time together, and Adam could’ve mentioned it multiple times.

Then again, he hasn’t told Adam about David, either, but that’s completely different. For one, David’s a lad who Jordan met on a dating app. Hell, he hasn’t even met him! Not telling Adam about David is logical, but Adam not telling him about a girl isn’t.

It isn’t like he’s desperately waiting for details on Adam love life, because it still stings to think about Adam with someone else. It’s about trust, and it seems like his best friend doesn’t trust him enough to tell him.

They get out of the golf cart when they arrive at the new spot. James is walking with purpose, determined to get a good score on the last few hits. Jordan lugs the bag with the golf clubs with them, and hands one to James.

He and Adam can’t contain their laughter when James’ first hit ends up flying into the water with a beautiful curve and a small splash.

“Not a word,” James grumbles, lining up for another shot. He hits this one right, and it ends up on the green, two meters away from the hole.

Jordan’s up next and his shot is actually pretty decent, and he hands his club to Adam with a challenging look. Adam’s shot is timed a bit badly, a gush of wind dragging it a few meters wide. Jordan lets out a whoop, and gets behind the wheel of the golf cart first, ready to win this round.

He does end up winning this one, and he makes sure to remind James of his awful score a few times as they ride back to the country club building. Adam folds the point sheet and manages to stick it through James’ open car window as he drives out of the parking lot.

It’s just him and Adam now, and Jordan pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So, erm, you want to go see the new episode of House of Cards?” He usually watches it with David, it’s kind of their routine, but he thinks he can send David a message that they can’t watch it together today. His best friend is being distant, and Jordan needs to fix it.

But Adam is shaking his head. “No, sorry, can’t. I already have plans. It was fun though, watching Milly fail at golf.”

Jordan fakes a smile. “Yeah, it was. Don’t think there’s any hope left for him.”

Adam clears his throat, fiddling with his car keys. “So, erm, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you at training tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Jordan nods, trying to seem unaffected by Adam’s flippant behaviour. He seemed just fine this morning, all energetic happiness when he told Jordan how epic it was going to be to see Milly play golf. But now, ever since James mentioned the girl, Adam’s being weird, as if he’s pulling back into his shell. Jordan wonders if he maybe needs some space. It’s clear that Adam wants to figure this out on his own, without any involvement from others, not even his best friend. There’s a sudden lump in his throat, and he tries to swallow it away before he says: “Don’t forget your shin guards again, you dummy.”

Adam smiles briefly. “Of course not. See you.” He doesn’t step in for their normal hug, instead just gives an awkward wave, and he walks off towards his car.

Jordan sighs, watching Adam’s car drive out of the parking lot. He fiddles with his keys in his pocket, and his fingers close around his phone. He takes it out and sends a quick message to David.

 

**HoC in an hour?**

**Lets see if your theory about Frank is right**

 

David’s reply comes soon after, and Jordan smiles at the screen.

 

**ofc**

**cleared my afternoon for our ritual**

**and u know my theories are always right xx**

 

******************************

“In the history of risk taking, has there ever been a better reason to take a chance than genuine, heart-pounding, scary-ass love?”

******************************

Jordan’s lifting up his left foot, rubbing his index finger along the spot where it’s been aching throughout the training session. Dr. Massey is sitting next to him, taking his time to prod at Jordan’s ankle and gauging his reaction.

“Well,” he says, taking off his glasses. “It doesn’t seem like much, but we’ll have to see how it goes in the next few days. If you keep having trouble with it, then we could take some X-rays on Tuesday. How’s that sound?”

Jordan nods, continuing pulling on his clean socks and his shoes. “Sounds good. I can still do whatever, right?”

“Yes, just do what you normally do,” Dr. Massey says. “That way you can really see if there’s something off.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Jordan smiles, and he gives the man a friendly pat on the shoulder as the doctor goes over to Martin.

He stands up and goes to grab his phone from his overhead locker. This morning he sent a, well, rather revealing picture to David and he wonders what his reaction is. He sits back down again and makes sure to angle his phone away from any possible prying eyes.

There’s a few notifications waiting for him, other people who have sent him Cupids, but Jordan ignores them all. After all, the message bubble is blinking.

He takes one more cautionary look around the dressing room before he opens the chat. David has sent him a picture back, and Jordan sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

It’s a bathroom selfie, David’s wearing a towel around his waist and holds onto the ends with one hand. Jordan can clearly see the outline of David’s length in the fabric of the towel. His lower abdomen is wet, a few drops of water on their way to trickle down. David’s arm obscures a part of his stomach, but Jordan can see his tattoo more clearly.

Just like beards, tattoos are a thing for him, and he zooms in to try and make out what kind of tattoo David has. It’s a grey coloured ink, and Jordan makes out the part underneath David’s arm as clouds. Above his arm, a small hint is visible of a hand holding a black scroll.

It’s…  _ familiar _ .

Jordan frowns at his phone, because he’s sure he’s seen those hints of patterns before. It’s a very distinct pattern.

A feeling of dread surges up from within him, and he’s suddenly nauseous.  _ Fuck. _ He’s seen that tattoo before. He’s seen it more than a hundred times. That tattoo adorns the ribs and waist of someone he knows.

He snaps his head up, fixing his hard stare onto Adam.

His friend is over by his own locker, his back turned to Jordan. Adam’s spraying deodorant underneath his armpits, and is grabbing for his shirt. Jordan has to know.

“Ads,” he calls out, a tremor in his voice.

Adam turns around, shirt still in his hands. And,  _ there _ . There it is.

From the lower part of his pec, until the V-shape of his hips, the tattooed angel on the clouds covers Adam’s body. Jordan flicks his eyes between his phone and his friend’s torso, and his heart is racing in his ribcage.

“Jordan, what’s up, mate?” Adam asks, tugging his shirt over his head. The tattoo disappears but Jordan’s panic rises.

He clenches and unclenches his fingers, looks at the picture again. This cannot be happening. David, the person he’s comfortable with, the person who he cares so much about, the one who made him more okay with his sexuality—is Adam. His best friend. His  _ straight _ best friend.

“Hey, Hendo.” Adam’s right there in front of him.  _ David _ is right there in front of him.

“What?” Jordan asks, forcing the word out from between his lips. He’s shaking, he’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

“You’re alright, mate? What did you call me for?”

And Adam is so oblivious. He’s always been. Adam Lallana, an oblivious, straight joker, who’s obviously only kept the app on his phone because he thinks it’s funny. There’s no other way.

In the middle of the clusterfuck in his brain, where he understands that he was inadvertently being played by his own best friend and that he fell in love with a, a  _ character _ , he realises something.

“You—” he mumbles, blinking up at Adam, looking him into the eyes for the first time.

“What?” Adam asks, looking confused and a bit worried.

“Your middle name,” Jordan laughs softly to himself, the sound sad and humourless, “It’s David.”

Adam’s eyebrows knit together. “Huh? Yeah, it is, why?”

Jordan looks back up at Adam again, and he knows his face must betray everything because the colour drains from Adam’s cheeks. He blinks slowly up at his friend, watches Adam’s eyes widen and pinch together in realisation, his mouth slightly open.

“And yours,” Adam’s voice sounds pinched. “It’s Brian, isn’t it?”

He can’t… Jordan can’t do this here, right now,  _ ever _ . He doesn’t want to see the eventual pity on Adam’s face when his friend realises he’s been catfishing him all along. Because it was real for Jordan, damn it, and the fact that he fell in love with a version of Adam once again shows that he’s unattainable for Jordan.

“I’ve gotta go,” he mumbles, grabbing his bag from the bench. Adam’s protesting, saying words that don’t register with Jordan. All he can think about is that he needs to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid, like cry in front of all his teammates.

He stalks through the corridor with long steps, pushing against the class front door. As the door flies open, he’s hit in a face with a wave of rain. He’s shivering by the time he’s in his car, turning up the heat.

There’s a blurriness to his vision, and Jordan blinks and blinks, willing it to go away and reprimanding himself to get his act together. At least until he’s home. Once he’s home, he can be who he is. He can… let go.

During his ride back, his phone rings several times. Jordan doesn’t have to look over at his phone on the passenger’s seat to see who it is, he recognises Adam’s ringtone. God, Adam must be mortified right now. He forces himself not to think about it for the rest of the ride, turning the radio up to a deafening volume. There’s an interview with some band on, and Jordan listens to them describing their writing process for the rest of the ride.

When he steps through the front door, he lets his training bag drop on the floor next to the coat rack. He shrugs his jacket off and drops it onto his bag.

His leather couch creaks when Jordan lets himself drop down onto it. He burrows his face in his palms, rubbing at his eyes. It all still seems so surreal, the car ride home having done nothing for his understanding of the situation. All the conversations he’s had with David, about his doubts whether he should let his ‘co-workers’ know about his sexuality, about his family’s concerns that keeping it all inside is mentally harming him, and about how their conversations have helped him deal with having these romantic feelings towards someone and not repressing them for once.

Jordan sighs, pushing his hair away from his forehead. There is no way he can play this off as something else. Adam knows he’s gay. He knows Jordan’s gay for  _ him. _ Cracking his knuckles, Jordan replays some of their conversations in his head. David, or rather, Adam was always sweet. He never forgot about anything Jordan told him in earlier chats, and he complimented him like there would be no tomorrow. Some of that had to be genuine, right? For fuck’s sake, they’d sexted back and forth and had orgasms because of each other! Jordan groans and flushes at the memories. He’d been wanking off to Adam all this time. If only he’d known it was Adam all along, he would have enjoyed it even more. Because it’s  _ Adam _ .

The sharp ring of the doorbell shakes Jordan out of his thoughts, and a loud banging on the door follows.

“Open up, Hendo, I know you’re home!” Adam’s voice sounds through the door. “Your car’s in the driveway, mate.”

Briefly, Jordan considers escaping through the bathroom window, but he discards that thought immediately. He probably wouldn’t fit, and even if he did, Adam would probably run after him and tackle him into the bushes because he’s an idiot like that.

As he walks over to the hallway to open the door, his legs feel as if they’re made out of lead. He turns the knob and opens the door, prepared for the worst.

Adam’s completely soaked, water dripping down everywhere. He’s breathing hard, puffs of vapour disappearing into the air. He looks at Jordan as if he’s from another world, and he promptly pushes past him into the hallway.

“Why are you wet?” is all Jordan can come up with right now.

“Didn’t dare to knock the past five minutes,” Adam says, holding his hands together and blowing his warm breath between them. “Took me a while to get here.”

Jordan wonders about the meaning of the last sentence, and he awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck. “Do you want some, eh, tea?”

Adam’s mouth flattens. “No, Jordan,” he says, sternly. “I don’t want  _ tea _ .”

Weakly, Jordan mutters: “I have coffee too—” but Adam cuts him off before he can finish his sentence.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Hendo? Why didn’t you delete that app?” Adam insists. His hands are curled into fists at his side, his knuckles turning white.

“Fuck you, why didn’t you?” Jordan counters.

“I asked you first,” Adam says, completely serious, and Jordan wonders why he loves this five-year-old so much.

“Because I wanted to know, okay!” Jordan exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “I wanted to know what it was like to talk to a lad who’s into me. It started out stupid, I just checked a few things, but then David,  _ you _ matched with me and we began talking. God, Ads, you were there yourself, you know what happened between us.”

“Why did you want to know what it’s like to talk to someone who’s into you?” Adam asks, looking out of sorts. “Look at you, Hendo! You don’t have to go on a gay app to find someone who thinks you’re hot. All the girls you fucking smile at are into you.”

“But I’m not into them,” Jordan says, staring Adam’s straight in the eyes as he says it.

“What do you mean, you’re having trouble liking a girl?”

“Not  _ a _ girl, Ads.  _ Any _ girl. I’m having trouble liking any girl, because I’m not into girls,” Jordan says, and there, it’s out in the open.

Adam blinks at him, leaning against the back of the couch. “You’re gay?” he asks, and Jordan’s relieved his tone is soft and surprised, and not angry. He nods. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m your best mate.” Adam sounds hurt.

Jordan shrugs, blinking down at his shoes. “Didn’t tell anyone, except my closest family members. Couldn’t take the risk. You know what kinda world we’re in.”

“But you did take the risk, with the app, and David,” Adam rolls his eyes as he says his middle name. “Or me, if you’d like.”

“I did,” Jordan looks back up at Adam. He’s teetering on the edge of a cliff again, he can feel it. He’s not going to stop himself this time. “I didn’t expect to fall for you, Adam.”

Adam sucks in a sharp breath. “You… you fell for me? Because of how we talked on the app?”

Jordan shakes his head. He can feel that weightless shock in his stomach, the rush of crashing down without any lifeline to hold onto. “It happened way back, back when you were injured and we literally spent days with each other. Back when you… you kissed me that morning.”

“Jor…” Adam sounds slightly hysterical, standing up straight. Jordan figures he’d be too, if your best friend suddenly admits he’s been in love with you for the past two years.

“I know, I’m sorry—,” he starts, but Adam suddenly bursts out.

“You pulled back! I kissed you, and you pulled back. You went to sit across from me and read your fucking newspaper, acting like nothing had even happened. And now you’re telling me you’ve been in love with me since that morning?”

“I thought you didn’t mean it,” Jordan says, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Didn’t mean it?” Adam looks like he’s about to jump out of his own skin. “You, you idiot,” he splutters. “I've literally had a crush on you since we were in the U20s! Everyone knows except for you. Roy Hodgeson knows! The other day he offered to put us in the same bedroom! Do you know what that's like, your national team coach feeling so sorry for you, he tries to matchmake? No, you fucking don’t, because after I kissed you, you ate your scrambled eggs and read your newspaper, you fucking divvy.”

Jordan’s torn between being angry at Adam for being angry at him and feeling like he’s flying, because Adam just said he’s in love with him.

“You’re in love with me?” he asks.

“Can’t remember why, because you’re a fucking arsehole,” Adam huffs. “But yeah, I am. And since I thought that I didn’t stand a chance in hell of ever becoming more to you, I gave that stupid app a try because it was time for me to move on. Turns out I’m even more in love with you now that I know what you look like when you’re horny.”

“Sorry,” Jordan says lamely.

“Sorry?” Adam lets out a breathy laugh. “You better kiss me right now, before I tackle you to the floor.”

“You are an idiot like that,” Jordan replies automatically, crossing the distance between them. He slides his hands in Adam’s neck and pulls him close. Taking in the brown of Adam’s eyes, Jordan laughs and presses his lips to Adam’s.

It’s mad, it’s absolutely mad that he’s standing in his living room, clutching the drenched love of his life against his body and kissing him like he should’ve done two years ago. He should have done so many things, but they got there in the end, because Adam’s no longer cursing at him, instead he’s arching into Jordan’s touch as if he can’t ever get enough. Jordan knows how he feels.

Adam’s fingers are clenched in Jordan’s shirt, and he’s holding on as if Jordan’s about to float away from him. Their lips move against each other wetly, the kiss growing more heated as Jordan crowds Adam against the back of the couch. He grabs a hold of Adam’s hips, just like he did in the club a few months ago. It brings back memories of how Adam moved against him, maddeningly sexy.

“Shit, that gets me so hot,” Adam whispers against Jordan’s lips, as if he’s been reading Jordan’s mind. “Hardly remember a thing of that night, apart from your hands and those pictures you sent me.”

“You called me baby,” Jordan remembers, and he only realises he said that out loud when he sees Adam’s cocky grin.

“Yeah, you liked that, huh?” he smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re a bossy fuck out on the field, but I bet you’d listen so good to me.”

“Ads,” Jordan mutters, his breath catching when Adam kisses him again, filthily this time, as if he wants to tear Jordan apart. Jordan’s so down for that. “C’mon, don’t stick your hand down my pants in the living room. This is family setting,” he manages to get out between kisses.

Adam chuckles, stopping his fingers on Jordan’s belt and tugging him along towards Jordan’s bedroom. “I’ve waited way too long for this. Sure you’re okay, baby?”

Jordan’s knees want to buckle at the way Adam says it, and he nods steadily. “I am now,” he says, pressing his lips against Adam’s beard. “Took me a while to get there.”

 

 

******************************

the end.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://www.poewowdameron.tumblr.com)!
> 
> i was kinda nervous about this one so kudos/comments are lovingly drooled upon♥


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